


A Story of Us

by wendyindahouse



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pining!Cas, mention of cas x others, pining!dean, writer!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 17:16:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1907301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendyindahouse/pseuds/wendyindahouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel and Dean have been best friends since high school, and Castiel has been hiding his feelings for almost as long.  Now living together at college, Castiel channels his feelings into his writing, and uses their story as inspiration.  Dean can't understand why Castiel won't let him read it, hurt by his closest friend appearing not to value his opinion, and after yet another argument about it Castiel storms out.  Dean can't resist the temptation to read it, but will his reaction be the one Castiel expects?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Story of Us

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted over on [my tumblr](http://poorbeautifuldean.tumblr.com)

Castiel huffs in frustration as he re-reads the last paragraph he’s written and runs a hand through his already wild hair.

"Who am I kidding?" he grumbles. "As if our story could ever turn out this way. As if he could ever be interested."

"Working on the novel again huh? You ever gonna let me read that thing Cas?"

Castiel jumps at the sound of Dean’s voice from the doorway behind him and quickly closes his laptop. He loves living with Dean, has done since they roomed together in their freshman year, but Dean does have a habit of sneaking up on him.

"It’s a short story Dean, not a novel, and I’m sorry it’s just… I don’t want  _anyone_ to read it before it’s finished, not that you’re just anyone of course, but…” he trails off, slightly flustered.

Dean raises an eyebrow as he leans against the doorframe, hooking one ankle leisurely over the other, and Castiel feels his face flushing. The truth is, a part of him does want Dean to read it, because then at least he’d  _know_. But it’s a small, wistful part, and a part that is loudly shouted down by self-preservation and common sense, because at least this way, he won’t lose Dean.

"Will you at least tell me what  _kind_  of novel it is? Like… is it a thriller, or a crime novel, or what?”

Castiel twists round to face Dean, head tilting to one side as he considers the question before deciding it can’t hurt to tell Dean that much. It might even get Dean to stop asking about it all the time since it’s hardly the sort of thing he normally reads.

"It’s… it’s a love story" Castiel mutters, looking down at the carpet, worried now the words are out there that perhaps he’s revealing too much after all. His eyes shoot back up as he hears Dean snort.

"Seriously Cas?" he asks, laughter bursting from him. "You’re writing a romance novel? Like, damsels in distress and heaving bosoms and everything?"

Castiel narrows his eyes and glares at Dean.

”No Dean. It’s not a  _romance_  novel. It’s about two friends who grow up together - best friends - whose lives are intertwined, and then one of them realises he wants to be more than just friends. The story explores how he comes to terms with that; how he has to overcome his fears in order to be honest with himself and his friend to even stand a chance at being happy”. Castiel takes a shaky breath, glancing away from Dean’s curious gaze and blushing deeper. ”Not exactly your sort of thing Dean. And there are definitely no heaving bosoms” he mutters as an afterthought.

When Dean doesn’t respond immediately Castiel glances back to the doorway. He can’t quite pinpoint the expression on Dean’s face, but if he didn’t know better, he’d think it was hurt.

"Not my thing huh?" Dean eventually says, his voice a little strained. "Okay. But tell me Cas… How exactly is it  _your_  thing? I don’t see you putting yourself out there, meeting people,  _falling in love_. You’ve never even really dated anyone. How exactly are you any more qualified to write it than I am to read it?”

The words hit Castiel like a punch to the gut, because Dean’s right, at least partly. Castiel doesn’t try to meet anyone - not anymore - and he doesn’t date, but it’s because he’s already in love. He’s been in love with Dean since high school, junior year, when it finally dawned on him that Dean was not only beautiful, but also one of the kindest, funniest, most caring people he’s ever met. He tried to get over it, to think about finding someone else, but they never quite measured up and eventually he just stopped trying. It’s also true that he feels like a fraud as an author, because his novel is about them but it’s not their story. It’s the one he wishes they had. It’s the one where Dean loves him back.

"You see?" Castiel blurts out, realising Dean is waiting for an answer. "That’s why I don’t want you to read it. You already think it’ll be terrible before you’ve read even one sentence!"

"That’s not what I meant Cas, and you know it. I meant that my opinion shouldn’t be any less valid just because I don’t always read that kind of thing". Dean’s mouth twists into a brittle parody of his usual smile. "But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe my opinion doesn’t matter, isn’t worth anything to you, so I guess I’d better just leave you to it. Wouldn’t want to disturb you at work."

He pushes away from the doorframe, jaw clenched, and the hurt in his voice makes Castiel panic.

"Dean wait, please… I don’t… It’s not… It’s not like that! I do care what you think, of course I do…"

"Then why won’t you share it with me Cas? And don’t say ‘because it isn’t finished’ because I  _know_ you’ve already showed it to Jo. We’re supposed to be best friends, Cas…” Dean looks away, biting his lip. ”I just… I don’t understand why you trust her with it and not me” he finishes, sadly.

Dean’s voice has a defeated quality to it and Castiel feels the sting of imminent tears. His hands curl into fists, nails digging into his palms, in an attempt to stop the tears from spilling over.

He feels anger start to swell - both with himself for not being able to get past his feelings, as well as with Dean for somehow being so oblivious to them - and a wave of self-destructiveness comes over him. He lurches out of the chair and grabs his wallet and keys as he pushes past Dean.

"Fine! Read the damn thing if it means that much to you! I’m going out, and maybe I’ll do something about getting some of that experience I’m apparently so sorely lacking" he snaps, barging out of their apartment and slamming the door behind him.

*

Dean’s heart sinks as the sound of the door slamming echoes round the now empty apartment. Great. Now Castiel is pissed at him  _and_ he’s apparently gone off to find comfort in the arms of someone else, which is really not Cas’ style, but then maybe Dean doesn’t actually know him as well as he thought he did. Because Dean didn’t know Cas apparently thinks he’s dumb and shallow and wouldn’t understand a novel about the struggles of life and love. Dean thought Cas knew that he would be supportive, even if it turned out Cas was writing an instruction manual for a microwave, just because he’s Cas. Apparently though, Cas doesn’t care and Dean’s opinion isn’t worth anything. Which hurts, because Cas is pretty much Dean’s everything.

Dean’s gaze snaps to the laptop, the glow of the screen visible where it isn’t completely closed, and he drifts over to the desk. He knows Castiel was just frustrated and still doesn’t really want Dean to read it, but the temptation is too much to resist. He grabs the laptop, scowling at the hard wooden chair and settling onto Castiel’s bed instead, opens it up and starts to read.

*

He isn’t really sure how much time passes, but it’s the early hours of the morning when he finishes and he’s still tempted to go back and read it all again. He thinks maybe Cas was right: maybe he is stupid and out of his depth, because there’s no way the story can be saying what he thinks it is. Except it  _has_ to be, because there really is no other way to read it. Castiel’s story is  _their_  story, and Castiel is in love with him too.

Dean doesn’t understand why Cas has never said anything though, since he clearly knows how Dean feels about him. Or why he was so reluctant for Dean to read it at all. Then he remembers Cas’ words earlier that evening…  _"Who am I kidding?_ _As if our story could ever turn out this way. As if he could ever be interested”_ and he realises that Cas  _doesn’t_ know; that Cas thinks they don’t get to have the happy ending.

Dean smiles, leaning back against the pillows as he considers all the ways he can try to convince Cas he’s wrong about that, but it fades as he remembers Cas’ parting shot. He desperately hopes Cas didn’t mean it, but decides to wait in Cas’ room until he gets back, more than happy to spoil the party if Cas does bring someone home.

*

The sky is tinged with the pinkish blush of dawn by the time Castiel returns to the apartment. He’s been wandering the college campus for hours trying to come up with a way to explain the story as anything other than what it really is, or to reassure Dean that it doesn’t have to change anything; that Castiel can get over it and things can go on as they are. He isn’t sure he has any answers yet, but the cold and the sounds of the campus starting to stir have finally driven him back home.

He peers through the open door to Dean’s room as he passes and his stomach twists when he sees the empty bed, clearly not slept in. He doesn’t even bother to switch on the lights as he heads down the narrow hallway to his own room, distraught at the fact Dean is clearly so freaked out that he’s gone without even waiting to talk about it.

As he pushes open the door to his room, he hears a faint snuffling sound and reaches out in alarm to switch on the lamp on his nightstand, wondering if next door’s cat, Bluebell, has somehow found her way in again.

He blinks, eyes adjusting to the sudden yellow glow, and stops in his tracks. That is definitely not Bluebell. That is Dean, asleep on his bed. Or rather not asleep, not anymore, because Dean is currently rubbing his eyes and looking blearily up at him.

"Hey Cas" he croaks. "I was waiting for you to get back because I…" he stops, looking past Castiel’s shoulder anxiously. "Are you by yourself?" he asks suddenly, his voice almost timid. "Did you…?"

Castiel frowns, confused by Dean’s concern, then feels a surge of hope when he realises Dean is trying to ask if he actually did meet someone.

"No…" he says shaking his head, and Dean’s face falls. "I mean no, I didn’t hook up with anyone" he rushes to clarify. "Yes, I’m by myself Dean" he adds firmly.

A small smile tugs at the corner of Dean’s mouth and he mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like the word ‘good’. Castiel sits tentatively on the edge of the bed, looking down at his fingers as they twist in his lap.

"Dean, I…" He swallows, then tries again. "Dean, about the story…"

"Yeah, about that" Dean interrupts, his voice still hoarse from sleep. "When did you become a mind reader, huh?"

"What?"

"Well you’ve always been insightful Cas, but it felt pretty much like you damned-near read my mind when you were writing Patrick". Dean reaches out to take Cas’ hand, linking their fingers as he continues. "As for Leon? Well, I think you were a little hard on yourself there dude."

Castiel looks up, finally meeting Dean’s gaze, and finds only warmth and tenderness there - none of the judgement or discomfort he’d been expecting - and Dean’s true, warm smile is back.

"So Cas…" he whispers. "When do we get our happy ending?"

Castiel feels his own, answering smile grow as he leans in towards Dean.

"Right now Dean" he murmurs, pressing his lips softly against Dean’s in a kiss that is warm and sweet and full of promise. "Right now."


End file.
